


Did It Really Mean Nothing?

by MelliviaGrant_forPresident (SilverShortyyy)



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Accidental kisses, Angst, Drunk confessions, F/F, can we pretend that we're in love, very very very very very very very slight smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7184315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShortyyy/pseuds/MelliviaGrant_forPresident
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>President Mellie!Future AU. A little too much hooch and a little too much wine and noodle legs and wobbly feet and falling on her legs and staring into her eyes. And sometimes you lie to yourself and sometimes you don't, but everything ends the same way as it ended once before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did It Really Mean Nothing?

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine. Scandal and its characters do not belong to me, they belong in Shondaland where Shonda Rhimes have to make them live happily ever after.

Mellie giggles as she picks herself back up from her stumble. "I'll be right back." Then she pushes the door to the Women's Room open, just to stumble yet again inside.

As the First Female President of the United States, one would expect Mellie Grant to throw a party of some sort to celebrate the victory. Not just for herself, but for America, for the women who will have a voice that will finally know what they're talking about, for the people who's lives she has fought for. And such a party was thrown, with Olivia Pope and Mellie Grant switching roles every now and then to pick the silverware, the china, and the like for the party. And since Mellie Grant is now President of the United States, obviously she's expected to act all regal and poised all the time. Except the party got a little too out of hand and everyone's rather tipsy by now.

She wobbles while she stands, making her way to the sink while trying desperately to keep balance on her ruby red heels that may or may not have lost one heel somewhere into the night.

The smile on her face doesn't go away when she leans in fully over the sink, arms in front of her and hands flat on the marble surface. She still keeps giggling, keeps wobbling as if she's balancing on only the heels of her shoes. Then she huffs a breath out and looks herself in the mirror, dead serious.

"You have to sober up, Mellie!" She scolds herself in the mirror. "The First Female President of the United States can't be caught drunk in her celebratory party!"

Although she stares long and hard at her reflection, it doesn't help the fact that she's had way too many glasses to drink and a little too much wine to be anything but drunk and tipsy.

She lets out a sigh, her hands sliding over the sink. She lets them hang there while her head is bowed down and her eyes void of any shine they had just a few seconds ago. Her body is suddenly slack, out of energy and out of happiness.

"Mellie!" The door to the bathroom bursts open and someone stumbles in. The voice is cheery, sweet, and Mellie has to pull herself together to put on a show for this person who, Mellie fumes, should have a little less ardor upon entering the goddamn bathroom. "I didn't know you were here!"

Her picture perfect political smile plastered on her face, she turns around. "Well, I'm here." And the façade almost falls away at the sight of the dark-skinned woman wobbly standing by the door, wine glass full of hooch in hand because wine can't make Olivia Pope drunk. "Olivia." Mellie's smile turns a little softer, a little sweeter, and the mask falls away.

"Yep, that's me!" Olivia tries to make her way over to Mellie, though her legs are more like noodles with how she's walking.

Mellie tries to walk over to help Olivia, just to have a split second reminder that she, too, is explicably drunk. After pushing off of her support from the sink, she topples over and falls on her butt, just as Olivia slips just inches away from her.

For a minute, they just stare at each other. Olivia's arms on either side of Mellie's legs, their heels mixed with the mess of limbs on the bathroom floor. Olivia's eyes are locked with Mellie's, brown looking into blue like it's the sea over at the beach where she stood in the sun with Jake, like the blue irises in front of her is the clear sky of Vermont over where she could have lived with Fitz. Mellie's eyes peer into Olivia's brown ones, and it's like dark, dark chocolate on a cold winter night, warming her insides.

It starts when Olivia sputters and starts chuckling, and Mellie snorts and starts chuckling too. Soon they're both laughing and it gives a whole new meaning to 'laughing my ass off' and 'rolling on the floor laughing', because Mellie's already bent over with her heels kicked off all the way to the door, and Olivia's all but hugging Mellie's legs while, in a matter of speaking, mopping the immediate floor with her arms and dress.

When Mellie finally gets her eyes to open (and when she finally wiped her tears away which meant she was just laughing _that_  hard), she watches Olivia leaning down on her thigh, hugging her legs while she tries to stop laughing. Olivia's head rests on her hip, mouth wide open, while her drunk laughter resounds rather melodiously in the bathroom.

Olivia looks up, and she sees Mellie looking fondly at her, and she doesn't really know why. So with everything her drunk self could muster, she smiles back up at Mellie, a child-like smile so bright and so innocent, so unlike the Olivia Pope everyone's gotten to know. Mellie smiles back just as brightly, but it's nothing like the carefree one Olivia gives, no, it looks like more than just a flashy smile.

"Congratulations on your win, Madame President." Olivia struggles as she pushes herself up to lean on the edge of the sink, her arms wobbly and only enough to get her to sit on Mellie's leg. The height boost helps though, because her head doesn't slip under the sink anymore.

"Thank you, Chief of Staff Pope." Mellie giggles when she leans onto the edge of the marble sink, head now level with Olivia's, both meeting eye to eye. "What do you think of the party?"

"It certainly is wonderful. You should bring more of your hooch to my apartment."

"Not that I could waltz in with a bag full of hooch anymore. I'm President of the United States; the Secret Service will go nuts if I wander off on my own."

It brings them back to that night when Mellie first came to Olivia's apartment. Drunk, jar of hooch in hand, laptop and another jar of hooch in the bag hanging at the crook of her arm. It brings them back to drinking like two old besties, acting like nothing ever happened between them, as if Olivia Pope was never Mellie Grant's husband's mistress and Mellie Grant never acted like she despised Olivia Pope for making her husband fall out of love for her. And here they are again, sitting on the floor, not a meter between them and legs tangled in the drunken mess they've become on the bathroom floor.

"It won't be wandering off. You'll be at _my_  apartment. Who else to trust the stubborn Mellie Grant with other than her old buddy Olivia Pope?"

"Psh. 'Old'? Unless you're like ol' Betsy Cooper and a former First Lady of the United States, I don't think you could ever qualify as old."

Olivia doesn't know if she scooted closer or Mellie pulled her closer, but she's closer when she speaks and Mellie's lips are only inches away from hers. She can smell Mellie's breath from here: of wine and hooch and chocolate.

"I'd make a neat First Lady, wouldn't I?" It sounds more like a statement than a question, and maybe that's because Olivia's too drawn into Mellie's deep blue eyes, or maybe she's too sucked in by the way their bare legs feel against each other, the way Mellie's dress has curled up way over the place where they should be.

"You'll have to be _my_  First Lady to be anywhere near neat."

The drunken haze is gone and they don't hear anything in their ears, as if the hum of adrenaline suddenly stopped and the rush ceased. The silence in the bathroom is suddenly so audible and so solid and the walls feel like they're closing in, and the other square meters of the bathroom feel nonexistent.

They're voices sound hushed and every breath echoes in their ears, and neither know when the gal between their lips became only a hair's width. Mellie doesn't know why she didn't keep her eyes from flicking down to Olivia's lips, because Olivia can clearly see what she just did and no, no, no that's not good. But Olivia's lips flick down to her lips and Mellie can feel the way Olivia licks her lips before those chocolate brown eyes flick back to her blue ones.

They sit it hushed breaths and hammering heartbeats. Mellie would feel her heart in her fingertips if she isn't so busy trying to keep herself down, trying to not pounce on Olivia and push her against the sink, trying not to slide her leg between Olivia's and apply pressure there and hear Olivia moan her name, trying not to close the distance between their lips because it's wrong and she can't and she just shouldn't.

But nothing matters anymore when she feels Olivia's soft lips on her own, and their bodies mold together as if they're one person, and suddenly they aren't drunk and there isn't a truck load of alcohol in their system, because part of them thinks this isn't an alcohol induced action. Part of Mellie wants to believe this is real, and that this is good, and that this is the start of something she's always wanted but never let herself have.

For a second, everything feels right. Everything feels perfect. Everything feels good and happy and safe.

Olivia pulls her leg off of Mellie's and moves so she's straddling the woman beneath her. Her hands slide against Mellie's front, hailing every curve, every bump, caressing each breast enough to earn a gasp from the woman under her. Her fingers play with the ends of Mellie's upped hair, palm pressed softly against Mellie's cheek. Olivia moves her body with Mellie's trying to close every space, trying to make them move closer than they already are.

Mellie's paralyzed, and she can't move anything except her lips that kiss Olivia's with so much passion and intensity, because she's been hiding this for too long and she's been lying to herself for too much time, and she can't help the way her body responds to Olivia's touch, the way she slides further and further to the ground to the point that she's close to lying down with Olivia on top of her, to the point that her arms are down and only her forearms hold her up.

When they part to take a breath, Mellie takes advantage of it and pushes herself off the floor, her arms all over Olivia's back as she returns the favor and kisses Olivia first, more passionately and more intensely and with more heat than the Olivia's kiss could ever be. Mellie's chest heaves when she takes a breath before slipping her tongue in Olivia's mouth, feeling Olivia's lips form into an 'o' around her tongue while she kisses it so hard she wouldn't be surprised if it actually bruised.

Suddenly, all Olivia feels is Mellie's hands on her back and Mellie's tongue in her mouth and Mellie's stomach against her snlwnclands and Mellie's lips on her lips and Mellie, Mellie, Mellie, Mellie and her body bursts with electric shocks and her mind is so fuzzy it's like being drunk and reaching a high at the same time.

And it takes the electricity from how Mellie holds her, from how Mellie kisses her, from how Mellie _loves_  her with such ferocity and such passion to wake her up and make her push Mellie away.

The push is not so hard for Olivia as the cold that smacks into her at the loss of contact with Mellie. But she's drunk (or at least she used to be, but she tells herself that she still is even if she's sober enough now to stand on her own two feet) and it's late and she had a lot of hooch to drink, so this is just some heat of the moment thing and nothing much else.

For Mellie, everything hurts just the same. The way Olivia's hands slid between them and pressed onto her chest, palm flat and firm. The way Olivia pushed off of her, pushed her away and pushed her so hard her back smacked into the bathroom wall. The way the cold enveloped her as if to remind her that Olivia pushed her away, that solely the push meant everything she didn't want to hear, that solely the push can remind her why she didn't let herself indulge in this in the first place. The way Olivia stared at her, hair mussed and everything with her mark on it, and yet Olivia's eyes are wide with regret and the words _this was a mistake_  screaming in those brown orbs. For Mellie, everything hurt as painfully as the last thing and the next thing, and in her wide blue eyes are shock, but behind it is pain and hurt and _why_.

Olivia scrambles up, trying not to look at Mellie while she looks for her shoes and puts them on, while she faces the full-length mirror beside Mellie and fixes her dress and hair and wipes away the messed-up lipstick just enough so it won't look like anything happened. All the while Mellie's eyes haven't blinked, watching Olivia erase any evidence of anything ever happening. Mellie tries not to blink, even when her vision starts getting blurry and she feels her eyes filling up, but she gulps it down because she can't, she just can't, not like this.

For a while, Olivia just stares at herself in the mirror, fixed and once again in order, and Mellie stares up at her, cold and mussed and empty. For a while, Olivia is Olivia Pope, DC fixer and White House Chief of Staff, while Mellie stares up at her with hurt eyes and tears at bay, Mellie the pained and heartbroken.

For a while, that is, until Olivia looks down and meets Mellie's eyes, broken and in pain and hurt and just glassy enough so that no tears will fall just yet, and Olivia inhales a silent breath while Mellie watches her in the corner between the sink and the mirror.

"This meant nothing." And Olivia takes her glass of hooch and walks out the door.

Once Olivia's gone, a tear skids down Mellie's cheek, and it doesn't take too much for more tears to follow it, until Mellie tastes salt on her lips while she still smells Olivia's perfume, and it's like Olivia's hands are still there even if they've been gone for a long time already. Mellie tries to get back up and fix herself, just enough to look presentable on her way to the residence, just enough so no one suspects a thing until she's alone and sinking in her bed with her cries only barely muffled by the duvet covers.

For Mellie, everything hurts just the same but what hurts the most is how Olivia's eyes said the complete opposite.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
